Sir Oswalt looked over the side. “Long way down,” he said placidly.
Gerard had never seen Sir Oswalt yell or show much emotion. He was a good man, even though he rarely showed that he cared. It was not his way. Gerard envied him that self-possession. Gerard often let his emotions get the best of him. He cared so deeply about things, and it bothered him when someone else didn’t seem to care, or asked him why he cared so much. How could he not care when he saw injustice, when those he loved were harmed, when evil seemed to triumph?
They approached the stone-faced guards.
“We have come to deliver a message to the king,” Gerard said in German.
“Who are you?” the guard asked.
“I am Sir Gerard of Dericott, England, brother of the Earl of Dericott. Do you speak English?”
“I do.”
“My sister is the Duchess of Strachleigh and is the close confidante of Princess Elyce. I have brought a letter from her.”
The guard blinked. “Princess Elyce cannot accept visitors.”
“I have a message for the king as well. The Duchess of Strachleigh is also a close confidante of Queen Anne of England.”
The guard looked him up and down, and Sir Oswalt as well, particularly eyeing their swords. “You may ask inside. Perhaps someone will take your letter to the king.” He frowned, not looking him in the eye. “As travelers, you may take shelter in the stables and entrust your horses to the grooms. But any act of aggression will get you killed.”
Gerard was glad they had not been asked to give up their swords. He had no other weapon save his long hunting knife and a smaller eating knife.
He and Oswalt nodded and proceeded to the stables, making sure their horses would be well tended, then entered the castle.
Inside, people were scurrying about, not even glancing at Gerard and Oswalt. Would it be this easy to gain access to the king? Or was he not at home? With his daughter near death, Gerard did not think the king would be absent from her.
As he spied a large staircase, a well-dressed man stopped them. “Where are you going?”
“Could you direct us to the king? We have a message for him.” Gerard held his head high and tried to puff out his chest.
The man raised his brows. “Who are you?”
“We are knights of King Richard the Second of England,” Sir Oswalt declared.
He looked them over, just as the guard at the gate had done, then said, “The king does not wish to speak to anyone at the moment. You may give your message to me.”
“I cannot give this message to anyone except King Leandre.”
The man’s expression was hard and cold. “Wait here.”
Gerard was certain the man was going to get the guards to escort him and Oswalt out of the castle. So as soon as the man was gone, Gerard looked at Oswalt, then dashed up the stairs.
He took them three at a time, with Oswalt right behind him.
The staircase spiraled upward, lit by narrow windows at regular intervals in the wall. He could tell from studying the outside of the castle that they were in the main keep.
They passed one, two, three levels and kept going. Where? Gerard had no idea. They did not meet anyone on the stairs, but no doubt the servants used another staircase.
The stairs abruptly ended at a corridor, much darker than the staircase, leading to the left and right. Gerard went right and saw a woman enter a door and leave it open.
Trying to keep his footsteps quiet, he went to the door.
Inside the room, a young woman who appeared to be a servant was holding her face in her hands while another young woman lay on a bed, her long brown hair arranged around her on the pillow.
It was the scene from his vision—the same woman, the same bed.
“Who are you?” The servant turned to gaze at them. “You should not be in here.” Her voice was halting, her tone fearful.
“Forgive us,” Gerard said in German. “We are English knights. We only wish to help.”
“To help? Are you for Montciel or Valkenfeld?”
“Montciel,” Gerard and Sir Oswalt said at the same time.
“I am Sir Gerard Raynsford of Dericott, and my sister, Delia, the Duchess of Strachleigh, is the close friend of Princess Elyce.” He sneaked another glance at the woman lying on the bed.
“I have heard the princess speak of a friend named Delia.” The servant stared at the floor, as if forgetting for a moment that Gerard and Oswalt were there.
“We came to see if there was anything we could do to help the princess escape the schemes of King Claude. I’m so sorry she is not well.”
“Are you trustworthy?” the young woman asked, staring hard at Gerard’s face, then at Oswalt’s.
“Yes . . . of course. We came here to help Princess Elyce and her people.”
Finally, she nodded at Oswalt. “Can he talk?”
“He doesn’t know any German. He speaks only English.”
“I speak English,” she said, switching from German to English. “The truth is . . . Will you shut that door?” She nodded at the open door behind Gerard.
He shut it as she continued. “Princess Elyce has not awakened as she should have, and I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She took a potion to make her sleep for three days. Everyone was supposed to think she was dead. On the third morning, when she woke up, her servant Jacob and I were supposed to help her escape, while letting everyone think she was in the coffin and was dead. She would then be free to find a way to stand up to King Claude so he would not force her people to work in his mines.”
The young woman wiped at a tear before going on.
“But the king’s physicians realized she wasn’t dead, only that her heartbeat was considerably slower than normal and that her breathing was very shallow. At least they called a halt to her wedding to Lord Rodrigo. But this morning . . .”
Her face crumpled as she covered her face with her hands.
“Has it been three days?”
“Yes. And she won’t wake up. I had the old woman fetched who gave her the potion, but she said she warned the princess that she might never awaken. She said the princess was willing to take that risk and there was nothing she could do. She said to keep giving her water to try to revive her. But I’m not sure she’s swallowing even what little I can get in her mouth.”
“Does anyone else know of this?”
“No one except her servant Jacob.”
“And who are you?” Oswalt spoke up in his usual calm, even voice.
“I am Ysabeau, Princess Elyce’s attendant. I only wish to awaken my mistress.” Her voice broke and she pressed her hand to her mouth.
Gerard gestured toward the bed. “May I?”
She nodded and watched him.
He approached the bedside, his heart in his throat. The princess was so beautiful, she took his breath away. And he was amazed how much the entire scene looked like his vision—the gauzy curtains around the bed, the way her hair was splayed out, even her dress.
God, please don’t let her die. After all, You sent me here for her.
He knelt beside her bed and took her hand in his. Her small fingers were cool but pliable enough to indicate she was alive. He stared at her eyelids, willing them to open, but they remained still and closed. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips surprisingly red.